Page 126 of On Thin Ice

Jacob nodded easily—though if Morgan attacked him, he would defend himself. But finally Morgan nodded too, very reluctantly.

“Alright, baby,” Finn said to Jacob as he stepped out of the room.

Jacob braced himself in front of the coffee maker. Ready to punch back if he had to.

“You fucking took advantage of him,” Morgan said, hitting Jacob square in the face without touching him at all.

Jacob winced. “No,” he said, but he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Heknewhe hadn’t, that he’d done everything in his power tonottake advantage of Finn, but right now, with Morgan’s eyes boring into him accusatorially, it was hard to remember that.

He pressed the button on the coffee maker and turned around. “I know you aren’t going to believe me—”

“What, are you going to try to work me around again? Convince me that you being with Finn is somehow good for hishockey? That I should want it too?” Morgan shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “No fucking way. You’re not good enough to lick his shoes.”

“Probably not,” Jacob agreed. “But you’re going to have to convince him of that.”

Morgan made an angry noise in the back of his throat.

A second later, Finn was back, dressed in loose sweatpants and an old, worn tank scooped low under the armpits. He tossed Jacob a T-shirt, who caught it and shrugged it on.

“Oh good, you didn’t kill each other,” Finn said. He leaned against the counter, opposite his father, and crossed his arms. Jacob told himself he was happy—relieved, even—that Finn had stopped trying to pack on the PDA to freak his dad out, but it had had the accidental effect of making him feel like they were a team.

Like they were in this together.

“You told me no blood,” Morgan muttered. “Even though he deserves it!” He shoved a thumb towards Jacob.

“He does not,” Finn said flatly.

“But—”

“No. You’ve said plenty,” Finn said. “Your feelings have been clear, for . . .I don’t know . . .the last twenty-plus years?”

“We didn’t play together that long,” Jacob muttered under his breath. He wasn’tthatold, okay?

“Why does that matter?” Finn asked, forehead creasing with confusion.

“It matters because—”

“Because he doesn’t want you to think he’s too old. That he’s as old as he actually is,” Morgan interrupted.

Ugh.

“Jacob is thirty-five. I know exactly how old he is,” Finn said, rolling his eyes.

“Great,” Jacob said weakly.

“It’s not fucking great,” Morgan argued. “It’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s not,” Finn said. He didn’t sound angry even. Frustrated maybe, and a little annoyed, but no more annoyed than if Jacob’s landscapers had woken them up at seven a.m. the day after Christmas.

“I’m going to add—”

“Nobody wants to hear whatyouhave to say,” Morgan muttered.

“I’m going to add,” Jacob continued again, raising his voice, “that not only is itnotdisgusting, it’s also not any of your business what Finn does and who he does it with.”

“Bullshit,” Morgan said bluntly.

“Please, for the love of fucking God, do not say because he’s your son,” Jacob said. Nowhewas getting angry, even though, honestly, so far none of Morgan’s reaction had been much of a surprise. In fact, the only shocking part of all of this so far was that Jacob’s jaw was currently intact.

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